


Hailstorms and Helping Hooves

by Star_Tsar



Category: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Autistic Trixie, Dark Comedy, Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-18 13:52:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10618257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_Tsar/pseuds/Star_Tsar
Summary: In the tower of a crystalline castle, a wizard broods over his relationship to a certain princess. To a stable person, it would appear as if things have been smooth sailing, but our malcontent magician fears he'll be running aground any day now if he can't put Twilight under his spell.  But how? When the Helping Hooves Fundraising Fair comes to Ponyville to help the disenfranchised youth, Trixie dreams up his most sinister show yet.





	1. The Tower

Chapter One

Rain could be heard crashing against the glazed windows of Twilight’s crystalline palace. Starlight Glimmer was lethargically striding down the halls, trying to recall the layout of the castle. It was always difficult for her to get started on inclement days like that--besides, there was nothing for her to really do. Twilight was out with Spike and her friends, the other elements of harmony, on some sort of escapade and wouldn’t be home until evening. Starlight, a social creature, was looking for the only other current occupant of the palace to fritter the time away until Twilight returned. Unfortunately for her, Beatrix Lulamoon made for very poor company.

For her first few days at the castle, Starlight was always walking on eggshells--especially around Trixie, but she (like everyone else) eventually learned that the magician was more bark than bite. Even so, the bark was pretty terrible on it’s own. To Starlight’s credit, she had yet to have really set Trixie off, thanks to Twilight’s advice the day Starlight first started living in the castle--as soon as the topic of the princess’ court wizard came up, Starlight was barraged with various perimeters and boundaries for interacting with Trixie: when to speak to him, how to speak to him, what not to bring up, how to get what she wanted--and most of it had to do with stroking his inflated ego. Of course, Starlight was mortified of talking to Trixie at first, but she gradually learned that it was simpler than Twilight made it seem.

After a few minutes of meandering around, looking down hallways and opening doors to nowhere, she found the wizard’s study. Carpeted floors, blue wallpaper (Trixie wanted yellow), a telescope, a chalkboard, an easel, filled bookshelves and derelict papers were the most innocuous aspects of the room. Someone entering for the first time would find their situation a little more dire once they saw that Trixie decorated his study with numerous hanging photographs of himself, multiple self portraits in various military uniforms, classical paintings he had recreated (bastardized with his image in the place of historical figures), and at least one marble bust behind his disorganized desk. You can guess who the bust depicted. The only picture in the room that wasn’t of Trixie was a small framed photo of Twilight Sparkle, and it sat turned inward on his desk. If there were only two pieces of information that might be garnered from this room’s decor, they would be that Trixie felt a certain way about Twilight, and that Trixie is a bad painter.

The magician is question was sitting at his desk, wearing Twilight’s crown, back hooves propped up as he ate an expensive-looking slice of cake--that is to say that he was goldbricking, as usual. Starlight was unmoved by the display, already familiar with Trixie’s proclivities toward work, but seemed a little concerned about the cake he was eating. Stepping into the study, she said to him, “Trixie, you _do_ know that cakes have gluten? And are made with milk?”

“ **So?** ” Trixie said, pointedly, as he finished shoveling the last pieces of spongy delight into his mouth.

Starlight, who somehow missed the gist of Trixie’s assertion, replied, “Twilight has you on that diet, and she wouldn’t like you eating ca-”

“Yeah, well, what Twilight doesn’t know can’t hurt me,” Trixie interjected, once more trying to get his point across--and it seemed to work this time.

“She’s going to see a piece missing from the cake,” Starlight strolled up to one of Trixie’s bookcases, looking over his collection of arcane tomes as the wizard looked worriedly at his empty plate, not having considered the fact that Twilight would realize there was a slice of cake missing. After a few seconds, his look mellowed as he reclined again in his chair.

“It wouldn’t matter, anyway,” Trixie said with a mixture of defeat and carelessness.

“Trouble in paradise?” Starlight glanced at the wizard, smirking before looking back at the books.

“Things have been weird with Twilight ever since Flurry was born,” Trixie said lazily, looking up at the ceiling.

“Have you two not been very close, lately?” Starlight said, a little more invested in the conversation than Trixie.

“Oh no, we’ve been close. Closer than before, even. She’s been wanting to stay up with me, talking about _this_ and _that_ and _hopes and dreams_ ,” Trixie crooned with a twinge of sardonicism. “Yeah, we’re close. The problem is that we haven’t _gotten close_ in a long time.”

Starlight looked a little more closely at the books, starting to blush as she realized Trixie must’ve forgotten that he was speaking to someone and not himself. Normally, he’d barely even talk about the weather--preferring to grunt and groan until he could make a smartass remark. “I just remembered that I have to go write a letter to somepony.” Starlight trotted out of the study, a little more energized than when she arrived, and Trixie returned to his worried look from earlier.

_That’s concerning... Even so, the question remains._

Trixie picked up his picture of Twilight, staring at it with no discernable emotion.

_Clearly, there’s something wrong with The Great and Powerful Beatrix Lulamoon’s special somepony. What mare in her right mind wouldn’t want to-_

Trixie’s ruminations were interrupted by a small piece of hail thwacking the window, surprising him. Twilight would probably be home sooner than expected.

_The why isn’t quite as important as the how--how to fix it, that is. Twilight’s probably just grown accustomed to my greatness and can no longer recognize it. All I have to do is jolt her feminine senses with some great act of heroism so she’ll remember how extraordinary I am. But how can I show her that I’m a hero?_

Trixie set the picture down and rose out of his seat, stepping over to his battered window. He watched the rain beat down on Ponyville, occasionally hearing hail ping off the tiles of his tower. He briefly entertained the idea of heading out to some mountain peak and slaying a dragon like the heroes of yore. He quickly abandoned this idea, chiefly for two reasons: The first being that with Twilight’s new friendship to that dragonlord, killing a dragon for no reason would probably constitute murder (at least in Twilight’s eyes); and the second being that Trixie was much too cowardly to fight a dragon.

_The only two ways I can convince Twilight that I’m a hero is by either: re-engineering the perimeters, by which, she defines a hero; or by actually going out somewhere and stopping some great evil. Twilight’s much too smart for the first option, and the second carries the (slim) possibility of failure--which would probably just make me look even less heroic._

Trixie squinted, trying to see past the cascade of rainwater to see if he could make out Twilight’s figure heading up the path to the palace; and wondering if the risk for this undertaking was worth the reward.

_Unless… unless I can engineer a situation wherein it only appears as if there’s some great evil that I’ve stopped… No, Twilight would see past that. But maybe… I engineer a situation wherein there actually_ **_is_ ** _something bad that I stop. I’ll be the villain behind the scenes, and the hero in front of Twilight! That’ll work. Now the question is: what is something bad I can do secretly, but stop visibly?_

Trixie spent the next ten or so minutes pacing back and forth, occasionally looking out the window to try and see if Twilight was on the way home. When he saw her violet frame galloping down the path with Spike on her back holding an umbrella, he headed down to the foyer. On his way, he stepped into the kitchen for a moment and tried rotating the cake dish in such a way that the missing piece of the cake wasn’t visible. How successful he was remained to be seen. After grabbing a towel from the supply room, he stepped out of the kitchen and trotted to the main entrance.

A few moments later, clanging could be heard before Twilight stepped inside, Spike clambering down and collapsing the umbrella as Trixie wrapped the towel around the princess (who was mostly dry except her hooves and legs).

“Oh, Trixie--you’re so good to me,” Twilight purred, gratitude in her eyes as Trixie dried her legs with the plush towel. She kissed him once on the mouth and nuzzled him, offering up a new leg when he finished one. “Any special reason you’re wearing my tiara again?” Twilight giggled as Trixie (who up until then had a very smug look) levitated the the princess’ crown off of his head and onto hers as his face started to red. He had forgotten he was wearing it.

“I was keeping it warm for you, just like how I brought you this towel--I’m just a considerate pony, like that,” Trixie said, trying to look like his best idea of a humble saint (which only made him look more smug than before). “Not like Starlight... I think she’s been sneaking in slices of cake on the sly.” Twilight, still smiling, gave Trixie an incredulous look as he finished drying her. “And after she knows that I can’t have any. Anyway, how was your, uh… charity drive, wasn’t it?”

“The Helping Hooves Fundraising Fair for Fillies and Colts,” Twilight answered, getting up and strolling into the foyer with Trixie while Spike went off on his own, somewhere.

“Surely the parents of the fillies and colts should be the ones receiving aid,” Trixie postulated, only to make conversation.

“It’s for victims of child abuse, Trixie, who are still wards of the state,” Twilight looked back at her wizard, her voice a little quieter and her eyes trying to elicit some sympathy.

“Then they really should have put that in the name of the ev…”

And then Trixie got a _terrible_ , **_terrible_ ** idea.

“Event? Don’t you think that putting ‘child abuse’ in the name would’ve brought it down? The kids are there for it, you know. Speaking of which, I really wish you would’ve come. The children love you. A few even asked me about you,” Twilight said, snapping an increasingly distant Trixie back into the conversation.

“The children love _my magic act_. How they feel about Beatrix Lulamoon, the pony, is a different matter. The ponies down there have probably already poisoned their children’s impressionable young minds with lies about me.” Trixie’s tone became faintly venomous as his paranoia bubbled up, worrying Twilight.

“Now, Trixie… You know that isn’t true, and I don’t like you talking that way. You remember how I used to have you help Cheerilee? The schoolchildren loved you,” Twilight tried her best to convince Trixie, both of them slowing down as they reached the grand staircase, but she knew that when Trixie got an idea in his head like this it was almost impossible to convince him otherwise--at least for a few days. Until then he’d just grunt and snap at her if she brought it up, then go pout. “And I’m sure that if you had come to town with me today you would have seen that all the colts and fillies adore you.”

“Hrmph,” Trixie grunted, looking away toward the hall that led to his tower’s staircase.

“Trixie, it isn’t healthy to stay cooped up in your tower all day, never leaving the castle. I don’t know why you think that **everypony** has some vendetta against you for this or that--and now **_children_ **? This is getting out of h-”

“ **Hrrngh--Yeah, yeah--uh huh, you’re right. Thanks,** ” Trixie’s tone rose sharply, his voice trembling.

“Trixie…” Twilight really didn’t want to fight about this.

“ **Thank you for telling me what to think, Twilight** \-- **I’m going to go up to my study and reflect on what a braindead imbecile I am,** ” Trixie snapped at Twilight, storming off toward his tower’s side entrance.

Twilight sighed, stepping up the stairs as she watched Trixie march off, his head hanging. She was used to him blowing up like that, but it still upset her when it happened--not because he had yelled at her, but because she knew that he was hurt. Trixie never had such a short fuse when they were growing up, going to Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns together. It must have happened sometime after he left Canterlot, that he became that way. The way Twilight figured, traveling for years alone can turn you into an antisocial pony; but she’ll be the first pony to tell you that she’s not sure why he’s that way. What really perplexed Twilight was why Trixie left Canterlot in the first place.

_Maybe it’s my fault,_ Twilight thought to herself as she walked to her bedroom, _I could have been there for him more. He never really had anypony except me. He certainly couldn’t talk to his father… and that_ **_mother_ ** _of his... I guess when you don’t have anypony, it’s not such a difficult decision to make; to just get up and leave one day._ But these thoughts were the same ones running through Twilight’s mind the day it happened, years ago.

Twilight opened the door to her room, which was very modest for a princess. Next to her room’s door was the door to Trixie’s bedroom, of course they’d usually both sleep in Twilight’s room during winter. The entrance to his tower’s study was down at the other end of the hall, close enough that she could hear him locking the door. She trotted to her bed, levitating her tiara into its display case and sitting down before she slipped on a sweater, thinking about the fundraiser in town. It was meant to last until the late afternoon, then the weather service would bring in the hailstorm--but something must’ve happened.

_I would think that Trixie would’ve been more sympathetic about victims of child abuse._

Pulling down a pillow from the top of her bed, Twilight laid her head on it’s silky exterior and sprawled out. A few minutes passed as she thought more about the fundraiser, the children, the weather, and Trixie. After a while, she heard some trotting outside her room and figured Starlight was coming to talk to either herself or Trixie. Sure enough, Starlight’s head poked into the entrance of Twilight’s room, looking at the alicorn.

“How’d the fundraiser go?” Starlight stepped into the room, walking toward the window.

“It was nice while it lasted. The fillies were all really excited to meet a princess,” Twilight smiled, sitting up on her bed as the sound of falling rain and hail filled the room. “Most of the colts were asking me about… Captain Fantastic out there.” Twilight pointed to her door, her smile faltering.

“I heard him yelling a few minutes ago,” Starlight looked out toward the Everfree. “Trouble in paradise?”

“No more than usua-... Well…” Twilight looked at the other window. “Things have been weird with Trixie ever since my niece was born,” Twilight confided in Starlight, who smirked at the statement. “He’s been acting immature- well, more immature. One minute he’ll be ogling me like a teenager, and the next he’ll be following me around like a sick puppy. And whenever I try to talk to him about our relationship, or anything serious, he runs away,” Twilight said, looking to Starlight for advice.

Starlight looked at her friend and shrugged, stepping toward the door, “Maybe you should try and sit him down, then tell him about this.”

“Have you met Trixie?” Twilight mocked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Where are you going?”

“I just remembered that I have to edit a letter I’m sending to someone.” Starlight grinned meekly, stepping out the door and trotting down the hall. Twilight, bemused, fell back on her bed and stared at the ceiling. _Where’s Spike?_


	2. The Castle

Chapter Two

   

There was always an eerie quiet after those hailstorms, and the sky was still dark as flurries fluttered out across the cold midday air. Trixie was hunched over, looking into his telescope and scanning the streets of Ponyville from his study’s balcony as he often did--only now he had a purpose in doing so. Spike laid sprawled out on the soft carpeted floor, staring at the ceiling. Faint murmurs of Twilight and Starlight talking down the hall could be heard; it had been a few hours since Trixie’s daily meltdown (which was less severe than usual) and the two mares were probably conversing about something else. Their voices could be heard drifting away down the stairs before Trixie glanced back at the still locked door, then Spike, then returned to his telescope.

“Say, Spike… You’re always down at Rarity’s; have you seen her sister, lately? Spoken to her?” Trixie did his best to sound as if he was just trying to make conversation (which was itself a giveaway to his ulterior motives), and Spike was aloof enough that it seemed to work.

“Sweetie Belle?... Yeah, she was there yesterday... had lunch with us,” Spike said apathetically, never taking his eyes off the ceiling. Normally he’d be more keen to point out Trixie’s sudden interest in his social life, but Spike had been detached for the past couple weeks. What was really strange about the whelp’s behavior was the he had been spending more time with Trixie than with Twilight, lately--and spent a lot of his time alone.

“Oh? Huh… Well, uh… She didn’t happen to mention Scootaloo, did she? How’s Scootaloo doing?” Trixie’s voice gradually rose in pitch as he approached the object of this questioning, poorly belying his hidden agenda.

“She stopped by at the cafe where we were eating lunch… Hurt herself riding her scooter, again--but I guess she was alright,” Spike said, becoming less distant. After a short pause, he propped himself up on his elbows at looked quizzically at the sorcerer. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh? Oh… No reason,” Trixie’s voice was nearly a squeal at this point. He looked back at the dragon, mustering his most apathetic look to convince Spike that he was just making conversation. “Say…” Trixie said, his voice returning to normal, and looked at his desk--laden with disorderly sheets of paper, before peering back into his telescope. “Why don’t you grab the weather service’s schedule off my desk and tell me when these hailstorms will end?”

Spike folded his arms behind his head, still laying on the carpet. “They’re supposed to keep up until Friday, but it’ll start snowing instead of raining tomorrow.” Spike reclined with a self-satisfied look and closed eyes. “Then they’re supposed to start the fair back up and try again. Oh! By the way,” Spike looked back up at the wizard. “I heard Twilight telling Star that she was going to make you go with her to the fair, earlier today.” Spike sat up. “Said something about ‘healing your relationship’ or something girly like that.”

Trixie frowned for a moment before it morphed into a smug smirk as he adjusted his telescope, still surveying Ponyville. “That’s to be expected, but don’t you worry your scaley little head about Twilight and I, my little friend,” Trixie said knowingly, twisting the apparatus’s knobs.

“I wasn’t,” Spike interjected, standing up and walking over to the balcony.

“Good, good…” The wizard grinned. “Because I’ve got the cure for what ails her.” He said, centering his telescope on the Ponyville Schoolhouse.

Meanwhile,

“Maybe something happened with Rarity, and that’s why Spike’s been so distant,” Starlight said, looking over at Twilight as the two trotted into the kitchen for lunch. Twilight paused in contemplation, levitating some knives out of a drawer and over to the marble countertop. Starlight sat down at the kitchen table tucked away in an alcove by the window, and looked over yesterday’s newspaper; the papercolt didn’t deliver today’s.

“No, he would’ve told me--and besides, even if something did happen, he wouldn’t sulk _for weeks_ about it,” Twilight used her magic to transfer a loaf of bread and some vegetarian foodstuffs over to the counter. “And he’s been spending a lot of time by himself, lately.”

“Well… I don’t know much about dragon physiology, but… You know… He is reaching _that age_ , Twilight,” Starlight said, only slightly attempting to convey any kind of comforting tone. Twilight was nonplussed by the statement to begin with, but her expression grew a little anxious as she sliced a head of lettuce. “And you said that he’s been spending more time with Trixie, earlier. Maybe he’s looking for a male role model,” Starlight hypothesized to a pensive Twilight.

“To have Trixie as a role model,” Twilight shuddered at the thought, fumbling around some bottles of sauces and dressing with her hooves before deigning to use her magic instead. “Do you really think that Spike is…” Twilight looked a little anxious, but only for a moment.

Starlight didn’t respond, all of her attention now devoted to the paper. All Twilight could make out on the page was a muddled, achromatic photo of some suited old stallions in a heap.

   

“I’ll have to write a letter to Ember about that,” Twilight was already feeling more relaxed about Spike, having devised a (albeit cursory and insubstantial) course of action; she slipped some lettuce and cucumbers between slices of bread. The princess walked the two sandwiches over to the table, sitting down in front of Starlight and placing their plates on the glass tabletop. Starlight raised her sandwich to her mouth slowly and took a small bite, now more concerned with the newspaper than Spike’s changing body. “So much for ‘neither snow nor rain’ huh?” Twilight giggled, taking a less modest bite out of her sandwich.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, hehe… Hey, Twilight--who’s ‘Halifax Lulamoon’?” Starlight queried, lowering the paper to find Twilight looking thoughtful as she finished chewing.

“That’s Trixie’s father. And I think it’s one of his brothers’ names, too. Does it say something about him in the paper?” Twilight was getting a little worried.

“It’s just something about another argument in the House of Lords,” Starlight said half-heartedly and bit back into her sandwich.

“Oh… Well, still, I wouldn’t mention it to Trixie,” Twilight knew that Starlight could handle herself around Trixie, but still caught herself giving Starlight advice like that.

“Speaking of Trixie… I know you told me not to ask _him_ about this, so I was wondering if _you_ would tell about something,” Starlight had sat the paper down and was looking at Twilight as the two finished their lunch. “I’ve been wondering about his name.”

“Oh, you mean the nomenclature? Well, the Lulamoons are one of the older noble houses, and back in the early days of Unicorn civilization naming conventions were-”

“No, I mean his _first_ name: Beatrix.”

If Twilight was worried about Starlight’s first question, she was mortified about this one. “Well… Trixie wouldn’t like us talking about this behind his back… But he wouldn’t like us talking about it in front of him, either,”

“I’m just curious. It’s not like I’m going to go shouting about it from rooftops, you know me better than that,” Starlight implored coolly, trying to downplay her curiosity and soothe Twilight at the same time.

Twilight considered just stopping there, but surrendered to Starlight’s inquisition. “Trixie… Trixie’s mother was a… special kind of mare.” Twilight said with some trepidation, looking at the two entrances to the kitchen. Starlight was hanging on every word. “And after having so many sons, she wanted a daughter.”

There are few words that can describe Starlight’s look upon hearing this. “So she named him that because… She didn’t make him… Did she... Wh-what did she do?” Starlight was slowly starting to lean in with rapt attention.

Twilight bit her lip, looking away with an expression somewhere between guilt and pity. “Well… She would… She’d make him… _wear_ …” she trailed off, shaking her head.

Starlight looked deeply at Twilight, mouth slightly agape. “D-dresses? Make-up? What?” Starlight suggested anxiously, almost smiling. Twilight just stared at her, the princess’ face now expressing more guilt than pity. There was a long pause, then Twilight’s eyes darted down to the table.

“When we were growing up, other colts would make fun of him for it...” Twilight’s expression was now entirely guilty. “It really isn’t right to talk about this.”

“I understand,” Starlight affirmed, slowly grasping the gravity of the talk and relieving Twilight. “I had no idea,” Starlight stood up, taking her plate back and levitating a ewer of lemon water from the refrigerator over to the counter. “So, are you going to try and have Trixie perform his magic act at the fair to raise money?”

“Not if he doesn’t want to--and he won’t, but that’s fine. Like I said, I just want to have a day out with him.” Twilight used her own magic to bring two simple glasses over to Starlight. “It’s been awhile since we’ve been out together.”

A few hours later

“I’m just saying, If Twilight’s your mother then that makes me your absentee father.” Trixie joked, sitting at his desk and looking over some reports from the College of Canterlot. These bull sessions with Spike were quickly becoming his favorite part of the day; Twilight would always nag at him when he tried to joke about subjects like, for example, Big Mac’s crossdressing--but Spike thought it was hysterical.

“I barely remember you when I was growing up, and you weren’t even there when I hatched.” Spike said, smirking as he sat in an upholstered chair and reading some book about Unicorn culture from one of Trixie’s bookshelves.

“Oh yeah, here it comes: ‘You were never there for me! How could you walk out on mom like that!?’” Trixie tried his best not to laugh as he imitated a blubbering dragon. “Now tell me about how Twilight had to be your mom _and_ your dad.”

Spike burst into laughter. “Just wait until I’m a famous rapper, then you’ll regret it!”

“Pfft- Ha!” The wizard chuckled, signing his papers and setting them in a tray. He reached down and opened a cabinet built into his desk, producing a bottle of oil. He dabbed a cotton ball from the same cabinet into the slick substance, then around the ring adorning the base of his horn, which drew Spike’s attention.

“So, can you still not cast many of your spells?” Spike queried, genuinely concerned for whatever reason, which took Trixie by surprise.

“Twilight’s allowed me to cast whatever spells I please, but she’ll know if I do. Not only will she know that I’ve cast a spell, but she’ll know what spell I cast. And she always asks me why, where, on what or whom--it’s more trouble than it’s worth. Most of the time, anyway,” Trixie explained, returning the bottle of oil to it’s place and throwing the cotton ball in the trash can next to his desk.

“Couldn’t you just lie to her about why you did it?” Spike countered, surprising Trixie even more; he never thought Spike would suggest something like that.

“I can’t lie to Twilight, Spike. I mean, I’m not physically capable--she can always tell,” Trixie believed this to be ultimately true, but could recall a few times that he did successfully lie to his princess. “Why are you asking?”

“So, like… Hypothetically, if you were to cast an… Invisibility spell, just for example, on somepony--Twilight would know?” Spike queried, even worse than Trixie at hiding his real intentions.

“Yes, she would. Does this have something to do with Rarity, you lascivious little lizard?” Trixie said bluntly, clearly a rhetorical question. Even the self-absorbed magician had started to notice that Spike was devoting more time to his unrequited love. “Because if you think that I’m going to help you lech after a full grown mare, you’re severely overestimating the closeness of our relationship,” Trixie stood up, slid over to his telescope and jerked it up toward the sky, realizing that he had left it fixed on the schoolhouse. “And not just because I think Twilight would find out… You’re too young to go around cavorting with mares old enough to-”

“Fine, fine--okay, sorry _Twilight_ ,” Spike slammed the book closed and set it in the chair after he hopped off of it. It only took a moment for their chat to turn into an argument.

Trixie looked back at the dragon with a look of annoyed disbelief and stepped back over to his desk. A month or so ago, it would be unimaginable that Spike would act like this. “You know, Twilight only gets onto you about this because she’s worried about y-”

Spike returned an even more annoyed look of disbelief. “Oh, oh! Now you want to talk about how _I_ should-”

There was a knock at the door, and Trixie and Spike both glanced over before exchanging thoughtful looks with one another. The wizard used his magic to unlock the bolt before chirping with a much more cheerful voice, “Come in!”

Upon entering her wizard’s den, Twilight Sparkle was greeted with the smiling faces of Spike and Trixie. She grinned and trotted over to the balcony, seeming to have not heard the small outburst between the two. “You two look like you’re enjoying eachother’s company,” said Twilight--Trixie and Spike nodding copiously in response. She craned her head down and peered into the eyepiece of the wizard’s telescope. “Ah, I see your telescope is set to the same equatorial coordinates as mine!” She exclaimed cheerfully and trotted over to Trixie. Nuzzling the confused stallion, Twilight sweetly appealed, “So, do you want to go?”

“I, uh… I… Uh…” Trixie stammered as he looked at his mare, then at a bemused Spike, then back at Twilight. “I don’t… I don’t know.”

“Oh, come on--It’ll be fun! It’s the same night the fair opens again, so you and I can spend the entire day together.” Implored Twilight, trying to capture Trixie’s eyes with her own. Normally, Twilight (while very affectionate) wasn’t quite so amorous--but, as the wizard had brought up earlier that day: ever since Twilight became an aunt, she’d been much more attentive to Trixie. At least, it seemed that way to him.

“Y-yeah, okay--sounds like fun!” Trixie was rapidly running down the list of upcoming astrological occurrences in his mind, trying to figure out what was happening in case Twilight put him on the spot. Unfortunately for him, he’d been putting off his duties as court wizard. “It’s a date.”

“I can’t wait,” Twilight kissed him on the cheek and nuzzled him once more before shifting over to Spike, motioning toward the dragon with one wing and toward the door with the other. “Come with me, Spike. I need to have a talk with you.” Apprehension flashed across Spike’s face and Trixie snickered.

“Oooooh,” Trixie mocked the little whelp as he and Twilight left.

“Trixie, you go help Starlight get started with dinner,” Twilight shot back, smirking and taking Spike under one wing. The wizard sat up in consternation. He hated helping with dinner, feeling that it was beneath him. The door closed softly, giving a nearly inaudible tap. Trixie gathered himself and stood up, taking a moment to organize the remaining papers he was looking over before heading down his study’s trapdoor and down the stairs to the base of his tower.

Even when his responsibilities were more pedestrian--back when he, Spike and Twilight were living in the Golden Oaks Library--he usually wouldn’t help prepare dinner. While he’d never admit it, he was just a poor cook. On paper, he should’ve been very good at cooking (seeing as how it’s just a series of chemical reactions); but in practice, he always messed something up. Even before he and Twilight were really romantically involved, she wouldn’t make him cook, usually--only when she was upset with him.

The door to the base of Trixie’s tower swung open and he strode down the hall and into the foyer. He trotted past the main entrance, contemplating he and Twilight’s upcoming date at the fair and still trying to decipher what she was referring to with his telescope. He was surprised she wasn’t more upset about the fair being closed early that day--he recalled something from one of their talks where she mentioned helping organize it; something about getting the fillies and colts in question to do this or that, go here or there--he really didn’t care enough to remember.

Then, just as he was about to enter the kitchen, something by the doors caught his eye. A clipboard with some sort of itinerary was poking out of Twilight’s still frosty travel bag. He trotted over, looking behind to make sure no one was watching. Trixie carefully slid the clipboard out of Twilight’s bag, memorizing it’s location before doing so. He saw a small series of notes Twilight had clipped to the top: correspondence between she and Cheerilee. He flinched hard at some yelling from upstairs, which sounded like Spike, but regained his composure when he realized that he wasn’t found out. He meticulously looked over every note the princess and the teacher had exchanged.

“This is good,” The wizard purred to himself. “I can use this.”


	3. The Village, part one

Chapter Three

No birds were singing, and cold hung in the air like distrust. Beatrix was down in the base of the tower, preparing for his journey into Ponyville after breakfast. Flasks and beakers bubbled with variegated substances, transferring them to other glassware with twisting tubes by magic light. Amid the alchemical apparatuses, the wizard had furtively hid an absinthe fountain and glass. His inclination toward the wormwood spirit was one of the few proclivities he had picked up from his father, who was often inebriated when Trixie was growing up--but these thoughts were quickly banished. Trixie didn’t like thinking about his father, unless he was justifying himself by blaming Halifax for something.

Beatrix had considered having a glass to start the day and take the edge off his trip into town, but came to the conclusion that his stealthy operations that day would be too delicate to undertake while under the influence. That, and he was afraid Twilight would be able to tell at breakfast. He wasn’t afraid that Twilight would be mad at him; he wasn’t afraid Twilight would do anything, in fact--what concerned him about Twilight seeing him drunk in the morning was much more frightening than anything she could do to him. He was afraid that he would feel guilty.

Beatrix slithered over to a mirror and began styling his mane, looking intensely at himself as he did so. Used to, back on the road, he could have a nip first thing in the morning and feel absolutely delighted with himself. But ever since Twilight was made his warden after his misdeeds in canterlot, she had slowly been shaping him into someone else--reforming him, according to Celestia. While never particularly courageous, there were few things that ever truly frightened Beatrix Lulamoon, and one of them was the idea of being turned into something he wasn’t. And now, Twilight seeing Trixie have just one glass of absinthe could make him hate himself. The thought of it shook him to the core.

Trixie rubbed his smooth face, now simply staring at his reflection. That was one of the first things Twilight had done: she made him shave every morning, just because she thought he looked better that way--and that was before she was even his marefriend. Now he was conditioned to shave each day, Twilight didn’t even have to ask anymore. He tried to eke out some anger at this realization, but was too defeated to even pout about it. Trixie thought back, trying to remember the first thing Twilight had changed about him. It was the very first day she was his guardian, he recalled. They were walking into the Golden Oaks Library together for the first time, Twilight was pointing down to the basement and then told him to take out his earring.

The wizard’s eyes darted up to his left ear, only a pinprick left to testify to fact that he ever even wore an earring. Trixie sighed, sneaking on some jewelry was the least of his worries now. First it’s how he looked, and then Twilight’s telling him what to eat, how to think, why to care--it never ends. It still vexed him, that Twilight would put him on some special diet for whatever reason. Trixie couldn’t even remember what the diet specified, much less why he was on it. Something about glue or something--and he couldn’t eat anything with casein, he remembered that. As much as he loved her, Trixie was getting tired of being treated like a colt. But now he had a plan to remedy that.

Trixie backed away from the mirror and went rooting around in some chests next to his enchanting table, mentally going over his mission in Ponyville that day as part of his plan to have Twilight remember that he was a stallion and not a colt.

Having been conceived in only one day, the plan was actually very simple. He’d find some little filly or colt being abused by their parents and rescue them--but this was difficult to do in Ponyville, as the town was very good at weeding that type of thing out; so his dilemma was finding such a filly or colt. But Trixie was both a magician and a gambler, and always had an ace up his sleeve. He already knew of one little filly in such a compromising position: Scootaloo. He had learned of her situation about a year and a half prior, and (after looking back on his own life) decided that it would be best for the little orange pegasus to stay with her father until she was old enough to move out. Trixie knew that Twilight just wouldn’t understand, and so he took various precautions ever since then to extricate himself from the situation. But now, while still feeling that Scootaloo staying with her father would be best, Trixie was willing to compromise his earlier convictions to convince Twilight of his masculinity and heroism.

The problem with this scheme arose when Trixie realized that he couldn’t just burst into their house one day without Twilight asking how he knew Scootaloo was being abused. Then, if Twilight found out that he knew this going on for years, he’d be worse off than ever before.

_And so, I must engineer a scenario that precipitates a particularly severe instance of abuse, such that Scootaloo would be so injured that she couldn’t hide behind her excuses of scooter accidents anymore and it would be readily apparent to everypony that she was beaten. Then while the bureaucrats down at town hall stumble over their red tape, I trot in and save the day. Oh, the thought of it--there I am, standing triumphantly with a battered filly cradled in my hooves, everypony in awe! Especially Twilight! She would- oh! Oh... Twilight…_

Trixie grinned like a dolt and thought longingly about Twilight’s slender alicorn figure.

_Then I would be set for life._

The cacophony of bubbles and chirps from the wizard’s alchemical laboratory came to an abrupt stop and snapped Trixie out of his lustful daydreams. He stopped searching his chests and containers to step over to a small blue phial, watching the last drops of his special concoction drip into it. It was an integral part of his mission in Ponyville. The potion’s purpose was to fortify certain enzymes and increase his metabolic rates to such a point that he could drink alcohol without becoming intoxicated, at least for a short time. After the last of the elixir trickled into the murky bottle, Trixie corked it and nestled it into one of his bags, then returned to rifling through the chests.

In the dining room

The gentle susurrations of leaves being rustled by the cool morning breeze were supplemented by the soothing sound of snow patting the window glass of the dining hall. The sun peeked out between overbearing clouds just to cast her loving, gentle rays through the bleak morning sky and into the room. Twilight sat at the table, alone. She could hear Starlight and Spike in the kitchen preparing breakfast. Since last night she had grown increasingly concerned about Spike’s changes in behavior. She didn’t mention it to Starlight because she didn’t want to make Starlight feel as if her opinions were unimportant, but Twilight was fairly certain that if dragons did go through puberty, it wouldn’t be at the same age ponies did--and the affects on their behavior would probably be much different based on both biology and culture. But Spike was raised by ponies, so there might be some truth to Starlight’s assumptions.

Starlight wasn’t a very good cook to begin with, but it seemed to Twilight that her new student had begun to enjoy it. How Spike felt about cooking now was just as enigmatic as the whelp himself. Occasionally, Twilight cooked herself but didn’t have any passion for it. She figured that she was the only princess of Equestria that ever did her own cooking. Celestia, Luna, and her sister-in-law Cadance all had their castles staffed with chefs and servants and guards--but Twilight, while the princess of friendship, could only take so much contact with other ponies in a day. The closest thing Twilight had to a staff was her one court wizard, the incomparable Beatrix Lulamoon. The day that they all started living in the castle, she had discussed the idea of having a full staff with Trixie and, to her surprise, he agreed with Twilight. At first, she thought he’d be ecstatic toward the idea of having ponies wait on him day and night; but as she thought about it, it made more sense that he wouldn’t want ponies buzzing around the castle at all hours. Unless he was performing for one, controlling it, Trixie got uncomfortable around crowds.

_I wonder what Trixie’s doing, anyway. He’s usually down for breakfast by now._

Twilight would have postulated further on Trixie’s actions that morning, but things were getting to the point she didn’t feel as if she could accurately predict anyone’s actions or motives anymore. With Spike’s mood-swings and Trixie’s odd behavior, it was as if Twilight was fighting a war on two fronts. She tried to take solace in Starlight’s company, but she barely knew her new student and couldn’t really speak earnestly to her, yet.

_Maybe I’ll go talk to Rarity or Applejack about this, today._ _Rarity would probably be the better choice…_

The princess leaned over and looked out of the dining room door, trying to see if Trixie was walking down the hall yet. He wasn’t.

_He’s probably just looking over some enchanting schematics, I’ll bet. And he did bring that chemistry book to bed with him, last night. That’s it, Trixie’s probably just getting started on another one of his little projects._

Enchantment was one of the few schools of magic, at which, Trixie was better than Twilight. To his credit, Enchantment was also one of the most complex and advanced schools of magic. It confounded everyone who knew anything about Trixie’s skills in the arcane, the way he barely understood even the most basic concepts of any form of spellcasting, but could comprehend the most advanced and esoteric principles of magic with no struggle--and Twilight was no exception. When they were attending Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns together, all the old masters thought that Trixie was some kind of genius savant and did their best to have his requirements for entry-level classes waived so he wouldn’t face any difficulties on the road to wizardry, but they were mostly rebuffed. That’s when Twilight actually met Trixie: with her being a child prodigy, some senior professor put the two in the same classes and asked her to help the colt pass any way she could (and, at first, she wasn’t very happy about it--but that’s a story for another day).

It’s because of this strange kind of savantism that, whenever Twilight was doting on Trixie in front of her friends or company, she would often say that if Trixie devoted as much time to his studies as she did to hers, he would be twice as good at magic as Twilight. The veracity of this statement (and whether Twilight herself believed it) is questionable, but it’s a theory that Trixie readily accepted. The problem with Trixie’s studies, as Twilight recalled, wasn’t that he didn’t apply himself, but that he would become obsessed with a certain school of magic (like Enchantment or Illusion) and focus solely on that school for months at a time. His studies in other schools didn’t necessarily suffer, but stagnated longer than their teachers would’ve liked--and Twilight was usually the one getting scolded for not having him work harder. Even back when she was a filly, Twilight had her hooves full with Trixie.

Twilight’s reflections on her court wizard were interrupted by the stallion himself trotting into the dining hall, wearing his bags and a scepter looped around his belt where he used to keep a knife. They exchanged looks and smiled before Trixie set down his bags and slid into his chair, next to Twilight. The princess nuzzled him, and he kissed her.

“Are you going out, today?” said Twilight, motioning toward the bags with her eyes.

“Yes, I’m going to Ponyville,” Trixie smirked; he had already picked out his lie for Twilight’s next question.

“That’s great, it’ll be good for you. What are you going to do?” Twilight smiled, nuzzling Trixie again.

“Well, I thought about what you said last night, and I’m going to head down to the schoolhouse and see if Cheerilee needs any help until the fair’s over. I didn’t forget that you told me how she’s been helping you organize it,” Trixie said with a self-satisfied smirk, more for his well-crafted fib than helping any overwrought schoolteacher.

Twilight, still smiling, stop nuzzling Trixie and sat up with an inquisitive look in her eyes. “I don’t remember telling you that Cheerilee was helping us organize the fair,” she said, more bemused than accusational.

“Uh, w-well… Sure you did. The other night when we were talking about… the fair,” stammered Trixie, his smirk becoming more nervous than smug.

Twilight pursed her lips. “Mhm? I don’t really re-”

“A-are you looking forward to our date Friday? Stargazing?” Trixie interjected, a master conversationalist. He had expertly deciphered from their talk in bed last night that there would be a lunar eclipse that Friday, and Twilight wanted to go lay in a field and watch it (along with every other couple in town.) Twilight and Trixie both agreed that the moon looked more orange than pink during lunar eclipses, but it was always promoted as a night for romance, anyway. Trixie thought the entire ordeal was vapid, but Twilight thought it’d be nice to go.

Twilight seemed willing enough to drop the topic of Cheerilee and the fair. “Really, Trixie, it’ll be nice. I promise. It’ll be like the other ponies aren’t even there. I know how you feel in big groups like that,” said the princess, rubbing Trixie’s arm reassuringly.

“Well, you know I try,” Trixie said with a falling tone, sarcastically trying to elicit sympathy. They both grinned at one another, and there was a pause. “So, what’s Starlight cooking? Where’s Spike?”

“Wh-... Oh, I don’t know. She’s just making some fruit salad, I believe. And I think Spike’s helping her. But…” Twilight rested her head on Trixie’s shoulder, looking for comfort. “I don’t know what to think of Spike, anymore.”

“I heard him shouting last night, I meant to ask you about it,” Trixie bent his neck over Twilight’s head and rubbed his cheek against her mane. She nodded in response, the sun’s rays now striking her hair in such a way that it sent Trixie’s heart aflutter. “Mm… I could have a talk with him, if you want me to.”

“No. I don’t think another talk is going to fix anything,” Twilight sighed and extended a wing around Trixie’s back. “I’m going to talk with Rarity today, before it hails. Maybe she’ll know more about what’s happening with Spike… You should try and get in by evening, by the way,” Twilight raised her head. “It’s already snowing, and it’ll hail before dark. Wear your heavy cloak when you leave.”

“I like the cold,” Trixie looked over, smirking with eyes closed.

“Trixie…”

“So you don’t have any idea of what’s going on with Spike? What were you talking about last night that made him yell?” queried Trixie, now resting his head on Twilight’s shoulder.

“I was trying to ask him if anything had gone on with Rarity, or if he was experiencing any new feelings,” Twilight confided in her wizard, hushing her voice in case they could be heard in the kitchen. Upon hearing _experiencing any new feelings_ Trixie gave a few short chuckles. “Don’t laugh at that, Trixie. Things can be confusing for a young-” Twilight was interrupted Trixie laughing a little harder. “Hmph! Okay, what do _you_ talk to him about when he spends all that time with you?” Twilight asked, a little annoyed.

Trixie spent only a moment in any kind of real thought. “We mainly make fun of Big Macy-”

“Trixie!” Twilight jerked up her shoulder and sent the wizard’s head flying off of it. “How would you like it if someone made fun of just because you-” Twilight stopped abruptly, catching herself. Trixie, who was laughing hard up until the last few words, now had a sober expression of no real emotion.

“Because I what, Twilight?” asked Trixie.

The kitchen door swung open and Starlight glided out, several bowls of diced and dressed fruit hovering above her. “Time for breakfast!”


	4. The Village, part two

Chapter 3.5

“Cherry pie and a glass of milk,” demanded Trixie, and the waitress waddled off. The ponies of Ponyville were used to Trixie marching around and ordering them to do this or that, even before he held any position of power; what concerned the staff of the diner was that he’d shown up first thing in the morning, sat at the only booth without a window (next to the restroom), and only ordered dessert. Trixie sat there, slouched in his seat, still pouting over what Twilight had said that morning--and in front of Starlight and Spike, as if she was making an example out of him.

_If that mare thinks she has any right to talk about my--and it’s only because she’s a princess now, it’s gone to her head--thinks she can talk that way about my mother and… and what she… It wasn’t like… It’s all her fault I even have to think about it right now! I’m beginning to wonder why I’m going through all this trouble in the first place, if she’s going to treat me like that. I never thought-... Hearing that kind of thing can’t be good for Spike._

Trixie had come come to the diner mainly to lay low until it was time to get down to business in town; getting to spite Twilight by breaking his diet was just a bonus. It would be a couple hours until Cheerilee and the students would be out of the schoolhouse for recess, then he would make his move to seize the last missing pieces of this puzzle. He had decided the night before to leave a few hours early. Even something like leaving just in time for recess would give Twilight too much information, Trixie felt, and the alicorn was probably out in town right now--stalking through the streets and just waiting to run into him. Just waiting to ruin all of his careful planning.

_And she wouldn’t even realize it. I’m doing all of this for her, and she’ll never realize it. She wouldn’t even understand. Twilight thinks she can talk about… B-but… She doesn’t know the first thing about it. And if… She’ll never understand. She doesn’t know what it’s like._

Trixie sat up and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the cheap table and covering his face with one hoof, enough to hide his eyes but not his quivering lip. He thought he heard somepony in the kitchen having a conversation, and assumed that they were laughing about his pitiful display. Normally, he’d have worked himself up into a lather at the mere thought of it--but he took solace in knowing that this dive was about to go out of business. One of the reasons he had chosen to hide in it was because almost no-one else ever ate there. His understanding of the situation was that there was simply too much competition from Sugarcube Corner for the place to turn a profit. What was really embarrassing was that Sugarcube Corner only served dessert, and still stole the place’s business.

Not until he’d actually eaten at the diner did he realize that it’s failure was more probably a result of the sterile white color scheme, and the general malaise produced from sitting in a run-down dive which constantly reminded you that civilization is always in decline.

Trixie’s ruminations on Twilight’s insensitivity and the diner’s state of affairs were cut short by the clanging of porcelain on laminate. He uncovered his red, teary eyes to see a hunk of crusty bread oozing burgundy. The unicorn waitress set down the glass of milk with a thud, chewing gum and looking at her notepad as if there were anypony else to serve.

“Alright, hon. Just holler when you’re ready for the bill,” She said with an unusual twang for a unicorn. Trixie figured that she was probably from one of those backwaters southeast of Canterlot--south of where Starlight grew up with that hack of a court wizard back in the New Crystal Empire. What was his name? Trixie couldn’t remember.

The waitress took her eyes off the notepad just long enough to see Trixie looking down at the dessert with wet eyes. “Somethin’ wrong?” she asked sincerely, and with a hint of sympathy.

The wizard sniffed and said, “It’s just…” He paused. “The pie is so beautiful that I couldn’t-” The waitress scoffed and turned away, trotting back to the kitchen. Trixie smirked, snickering like colt, and tore into his dessert.

* * *

 

Rarity’s boutique was always vibrant and lively, no matter how bleak the weather was outside. Twilight sat on an ostentatious chaise lounge in Rarity’s bedroom, the mare herself laying languid on her silk duvet. There was little light shining into the room, partly due to snow having piled up on the boutique’s windows, but mostly because the clouds had drowned the sun in a sea of grey. Rarity had lit some candles, and Twilight was getting a little uncomfortable.

Rarity groaned, writhing on her bed and whining intermittently. Twilight had been visiting for only about thirty minutes, most of it over Rarity nursing a sliver of the cherry pie she had bought from the Cakes the other night. Now she was theatrically flailing around on her oversized bed, more out of histrionics than any stomach ache. Twilight had been trying to bring up the topic of Spike’s behavior, but Rarity shut her down at every turn--and now the alicorn was becoming suspicious.

“Why did you let me _gorge_ myself? Now look at me!” Rarity whined, still squirming. “If you had some with me like I’d asked you, I wouldn’t have been so nervous--I’m a nervous eater, you know! Look at the state I’m in, oh…”

An incredulous Twilight looked at the wriggling unicorn, pursing her lips, “Well… It wouldn’t have felt right. I told you about the diet I’ve put-”

“A diet! That’s what I need, now--thanks to you,” Rarity tossed a playful look over to her friend, smirking.

Twilight gave a small smile in return, and a short laugh out of consideration. She relaxed herself on the the lounge chair, tactfully asking, “So, are you _sure_ that Spike hasn’t been acting even the slightest bit-”

“He doesn’t seem any different to me, Twilight,” Rarity hastily interjected, seeming a little annoyed at being interrogated about Spike for the fourth time in a half-hour. “The poor dear, you’ve probably just let him spend too much time around Trixie. You know how _emotional_ that stallion gets; it’s probably just rubbed off on my poor little Spikey,” Rarity took a moment from reclining to glance over at Twilight, who now had a poorly concealed frown. Rarity rolled her eyes and turned back over.

“Well, that’s one theory, Rarity. But your _poor little Spikey_ does act differently around _you_ than he does other ponies,” Twilight didn’t know why she thought speaking to Rarity about this was a good idea; she always took Spike’s side and stood up for him, even on non-contentious issues like this one. “And I don’t know how ‘emotional’ Trixie gets--in fact, he’s only tried to help me with Spi-”

“Please, _darling_ , you’re always standing up for that spoiled colt of a stallion. I’ll never understand what you see in him. Even after what he did in Canterlot, you took his side! Unless… He doesn’t force you to do all this for him, does he?” said Rarity, pointedly trying distract Twilight. And, seeing as how Twilight only gasped and stammered angrily in response, it seemed to work.

“F-force me to-!? He’d nev-! I-I can’t-! That is not true!” Twilight stuttered, glaring at her exceedingly smug friend for only a few moments before pausing and regaining her composure. “You’ve really disappointed me, Rarity. And what’s saddest about it is that Trixie only has nice things to say about you,” Twilight looked up and away, self-righteously.

Rarity, still smiling derisively, mustered all the passive-aggressive venom in her voice and responded, “Only because I’m a unicorn, dear. You know how he’d feel about me if I were an earth pony, or a pegasus, or a don-”

“That’s enough! Trixie does not and would not ever discri-”

“ _Well, your Trixie does act differently around you than he does other ponies,_ ” Like a tiger pouncing on it’s prey, Rarity had left Twilight in shock.

Only a few moments passed before Twilight could be seen stamping away from the boutique; she didn’t realize until a few minutes later that she’d fallen right into Rarity’s trap, and Twilight’s righteous indignation slowly faded into embarrassment. Not only had Rarity thrown the princess off her trail, she’d also made her look like an imbecile. But, some good did come of this exchange: Twilight was now fairly certain that, whatever was happening with Spike, Rarity had something to do with it. She also felt better about herself for defending Trixie--it made her shame from the debacle at breakfast sting a little less. She had been beating herself up the entire morning over humiliating her special somepony, and in front of everyone. She couldn’t forget the sight of Trixie, just sitting there and looking down while she berated him.

_He’ll never trust me again, not after I… exposed him like that. And the way he tried to defend his mother, after… I must’ve made him feel like a fool._

Twilight was trotting a little more happily a few minutes after her kerfuffle at Rarity’s. She had decided to speak to her friend Fluttershy, this time without any ulterior motive like she tried to with Rarity--but if the issue of Spike’s behavior were to just come up in conversation, that’d be dandy. Along the way, she grinned and nodded to Mrs. Cake, who was helping her husband load what appeared to be boxes of festive foodstuffs onto a freshly-painted cart. Pinkie had told her that they would be opening a new gelateria inside Sugarcube corner, and that it would include sorbet. Twilight was looking forward to taking Trixie there to eat, once it opened.

_I wonder if Trixie realizes how much better he’s been acting since I put him on his diet. Although, I’m not sure it’s right to say ‘he’s been acting better’, it’s not like he can help it. Maybe ‘feeling better’ would be a better way to put it._

* * *

 

If Snips and Snails had any social acumen, they’d have hated recess--but their inept blindness to their classmates alienating them had rendered them willing outcasts. They stood there, bumbling by a copse as Cheerilee scolded some fillies in the center of the playground. Normally in the wintertime, Cheerilee would have the schoolponies play inside for recess, but it was especially balmy that day. Snips and Snails were talking about some new overrated musician or an issue of some comic book when they heard a loud thud and some cracking foliage followed by swearing--which ended abruptly. They stepped around the dying bushes to find a heap of gaudy cloth flailing around which eventually revealed itself to be their old ‘friend’ Beatrix Lulamoon, and they were very excited about it.

“Ah, my miniscule minions, my gormless goons! Just the two colts I was coming to find,” Trixie scrambled to his hooves, doing his best to appear like a benevolent older brother--but really just looming over the two colts and speaking like a cartoon villain. “Listen, there’s no time to lose admiring me; I have a plan and I need your help.”

A few minutes later Trixie was the sole occupant of the Ponyville Schoolhouse, rifling through some file cabinets against the backdrop of screaming from the playground. If Twilight wouldn’t have known, Trixie would’ve just cast an invisibility spell and snuck in without Snips and Snails making fools of themselves--even if it would’ve been much less entertaining. Trixie was here, performing this scholastic espionage to patch the only hole in his plan: he didn’t know where Scootaloo lived. The court wizard could have well just gone down to the town hall and gotten the paperwork, but that would have left a paper trail for Twilight to follow. After only a few moments and flipping through files, thank to Cheerilee’s organizational skills, Trixie had found Scootaloo’s file.

His eyes darted out to the playground, hearing the commotion die down, then returned to the documents in the manilla folder. Some light emanated from the tip of his horn--a utility spell, Twilight wouldn’t ask about it--and he flipped through each sheet, searching for an address.

_Those impudent little creatures, if I get caught in here I’ll--Oh! Here it is! Alright, alright, she lives in the bad part of town, no surprise… No mother, and here it says her father’s name is… Night Rider!? That’s the stupidest- Oh, no, it says Night Glider. Alright, well I suppose I have everything I need to-_

The ambient noise of fillies and colts conversing was slowly travelling up to the school house’s side entrance, and Trixie fumbled around nervously, juggling the papers back into the folder and tossed it callously into the cabinet. He thought he heard the side door’s handle jiggling as he darted out of the front door.

* * *

 

“You know how Rarity can be, sometimes, Fluttershy. She doesn’t really feel that way,” Twilight and Fluttershy sat in a cozy little nook where the timid mare usually had her meals, but now it was being used for strategizing Twilight’s campaign on Spike’s odd behavior. “And yes, I am upset about what she said--but again, she didn’t mean it. What concerns me more is what she _didn’t_ say.”

Fluttershy, oblivious to the insinuation, sat across from the princess and clasped her mug a little more snugly. “You and the girls always say that ‘Rarity just acts that way, sometimes’, but she’s never said anything like that to me,” If there can exist a look that is both concessive and incredulous, Fluttershy had it. “Are you sure that your concern for Spike isn’t just… affecting your view of your conversation with Rarity? I don’t want to say that you’re paranoid, but-”

“Every time I tried to bring up Spike,” Twilight leaned in, tilting her head to accentuate her point non-aggressively. “She would change the subject. And when she finally realized that I wouldn’t leave it alone, she made me leave. What am I supposed to think when I can get anypony to talk to me about Spike, but Rarity won’t say a word-” Twilight suddenly looked a little surprised, shaking her head as she realized how ridiculous she sounded predicating an argument on what someone _didn’t_ say. Fluttershy was leaning back, huddling up in the end of her booth even at Twilight’s relatively gentle tirade. “I’m sorry, Fluttershy. I’m just worried about Spike; I’ve even been reading books on adolescent psychology to try and ascertain why Spike’s been acting this way, and… I’m just worried.”

Fluttershy slowly uncoiled and returned to a relatively relaxed position, eyeing her friend a little more sympathetically. “You aren’t afraid that Rarity’s been…”

* * *

 

The few ponies that knew Trixie intimately were all familiar with his sense of humor, which was primarily composed of cruel schadenfreude, hateful diatribes against other ponies, and insufferable surrealism that only he understood--the latter having led him to ‘hide’ poorly behind dead bushes next to the rundown hovel where Night Glider and his daughter Scootaloo lived. After his bizarre fit of laughter, Trixie realized he had yet to devise any real course of action to take upon arrival at the house (the address, of which, he took from the paperwork he reconnoitered).

_I could just walk in, he’s probably at work in that... shoe factory or whatever it is… But he might not be, and these types are a violent sort… What was it I used to do when I broke into houses? Oh-well, hm… I’ll think of something to tell her later. Just a minor divination…_

Trixie’s horn lit up with an electric aura of rose. The ring at the base of his horn emitted a small hum for only the first few moments of the spell, and the wizard shut his eyes. Relatively simple for Trixie, the divination spell ‘Detect Equinoid’ was meant to make readily apparent any equine lifeform in the caster’s immediate spatial cognition. That is to say that Trixie would be able to simply think about the house and know if any living ponies were in it. There weren’t, and Trixie finished weaving the spell. He trotted up to the door and tried to turn the knob magically,  finding it to be locked. Despite fancying himself a great mastermind of complex schemes, Trixie always found himself foiled by such great obstacles as locked doors.

But a sorcerer as wise and studied as Beatrix Lulamoon always had a recourse in the face of this trying circumstance: whenever Trixie had to break out of some fascists’ holding cell, or when he had locked himself out of his cart, the wizard would use another simple spell--the transmutation ’Knock’. In layman’s terms, it unlocked doors. Normally, a pony in his position might do this with some trepidation--knowing that Twilight would certainly ask why such a spell would be cast (and _especially_ after a spell meant to detect life, like the occupants of a house for example). But going into town and having to talk to other ponies was, in Trixie’s eyes, a great struggle--and he felt that he’d gone through too much to give in now. Without a second thought--his horn glowed and the ring hummed, and he was inside the house.

Trixie wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see in the little house. Scratched and punctured drywall, a dirty brown carpet, some-assembly-required furniture, and very few pictures. The pictures were what intrigued him the most, they were all just family photos--and none of them recent--in cheap frames and behind cracked glass. Trixie, in a rare moment of introspection, ruminated on his own childhood. He might’ve had an unhappy upbringing, but at least it was in a spacious, well-decorated abode. This squalid one-story was just depressing, and totally lacking in nuanced decor. But any sympathy or pity Trixie might’ve felt for Scootaloo (or Night Glider, for that matter) quickly morphed into disdain for the bleak existence of those he felt beneath his station. The unicorn stepped over to a lonely table and knocked off the cheap lamp occupying it, then he left the house and forgot about it.

* * *

 

The Ponyville bowling alley had a much more inviting atmosphere than that bloated cadaver of a diner, but it wasn’t especially lively for this time of day. The only occupants being the owner (tending the bar), Trixie, a nervous Mr. Cake, and some colt cutting class to play the arcade cabinets in the back. The former three were standing at the bar, Trixie taking a break from his solitary lane to condescendingly lecture  the other two about something of no real consequence. That having been said, Trixie thought he was just having a friendly chat.

“So then, the question becomes not how to relay the coordinates, but what coordinate system to utilize such as this hypothetical civilization might objectively locate us. The answer, of course, would be transmitting our location using a star-map predicated on the radiation from quasars, as opposed to an equestria-centric system using the celestial equator--but even these quasar-based maps would be rendered obsolete once the supermassive black holes at the-”

“Yeah, y-you know--as fascinating as this sounds, I’m going to level with you Mr- uh, Court Wizard Lulamoon,” Mr. Cake glanced back at his half-empty cart of comestibles, nervously trying to extricate himself from the discourse. “I have a lot of deliveries left to make, and I don’t understand a word you’re saying,” said the baker, backing away with a fake smile plastered on his yellow face. Trixie and, surprisingly, the owner both scowled and turned away as the baker left.

“Slack jawed, pig-ignorant…” muttered Trixie, under his breath, and he looked back at his lane with some apprehension.

“Don’t worry about him, Trix, he’s just an earth pony,” The owner, a unicorn whose name Trixie couldn’t recall, tried to offer some comfort to the wizard. He looked at Trixie, then the lane he was focused on. “Somethin’ wrong, pal? Do you not like bowling?”

“I like it well enough,” Trixie looked over to the other unicorn. “But I don’t think I’ll ever be able to really play it. You see, I--and I’m not complaining, I wasn’t brought up to complain--but I…” Trixie trailed off, looking slightly askew from the owner, before returning to the sentence with a haughty tone. “My superior, noble breeding has left me with a physiological quirk, you see: my legs, like those of some of the greatest generals and scholars, twist slightly out of their… orbit, you know--what I mean to say is that-”

“Your knees are messed up, and your hooves point out more than they should. Yeah, my nephew has that,” interjected the owner, leaving Trixie quiet and nodding with a blank expression. “They’ve got him in leg braces for it. Anyhow, don’t feel bad if you can’t get the hoofwork down for bowling because it hurts--you’re a court wizard, not a bowler. Just have fun,” The owner, smirking, turned and stepped out from behind the bar, nodding at Trixie before heading to presumably have a talk with the colt in the back.

Trixie walked over to his isolated lane, his still blank expression belying his brooding over the mention of leg braces. He stayed there for a couple hours, bowling poorly and alone.

* * *

 

A cacophony of clicking tongues, slurring speech and slinging spittle on the filthy hardwood floor. A faint aroma of stale urine and stagnant water, evoking the image of a bloated corpse floating face down up a river in the mind of the increasingly disturbed Beatrix Lulamoon. It seemed that the descent of the sun was directly proportionate to the freakish and obscene behavior of the stallions shambling around him. He sat strategically at the bar, bending his shoulders in such a way that he thought it would convince the drunken patrons to leave him alone.

All Trixie had to do was wait for Night Glider to come in and have his usual glass of whatever it was he drank, then he’d set in motion the last wheels of his scheme. But even waiting was proving to be a challenge; the worst of the day. The grime and stench were the least of the ordeal, it was the ever present speech--the randomly oscillating hum of twenty, thirty stallions all talking and laughing and singing louder than everypony else. Pure torture to a pony of Beatrix’s disposition. Trixie thought about having a drink to take the edge off, but the idea of reducing himself to the the level of the repulsive rabble surrounding him put him off it. Besides, it probably would’ve only made him more likely to make a scene over it, not lessen the pain of the noise.

Trixie sat up and leaned on the bar, covering his ears with his hooves and closing his eyes in such a way as to not draw attention. He maneuvered his nose over the glass of water he’d been nursing and tried to think of Twilight, which only reminded him of his humiliation at breakfast and further upset him. Then, like an angel sounding a trumpet, the door to the tavern popped open and he quickly glanced over to see a dark yellow pegasus step through, bringing Trixie some relief that he could at least get on with his business there. Trixie sat up, uncovering his ears and moving the glass of water aside.

“Well, well, well--A pegasus! Look, boys! A pegasus! You know, I don’t think they serve grape juice here,” taunted Trixie, putting on his best idea of an earth pony accent. The actual earth ponies, who held Trixie in higher regard than one might expect, laughed at the dig against Night Glider and a few even joined in, shouting their own abuse at the pegasus.

A common point of contention in bars across Equestria was whether earth ponies or unicorns had the higher tolerance for alcohol, the most cited evidence for either argument being that earth ponies drank more than unicorns, but unicorns imbibed more potent spirits than earth ponies. However, common ground was always found in the belief that of all pony races, pegasuses had the poorest ability to hold their liquor. Night Glider, no matter his position on the subject, seemed to take umbrage at the mocking and proceeded to spew his own invective toward Trixie and unicorns in general. If Trixie hadn’t wanted this reaction, the exchange would’ve almost certainly devolved into name-calling and barbarism; but Night Glider had fallen right into the wizard’s trap.

Trixie wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but the sun had abandoned the now dark and rumbling skies and the number of ponies in the bar had gradually declined until only he, Night Glider, and a hand full of pathetic has-beens remained. The wizard was too focused on putting up the act of both drunkenness and sociability itself to keep track of time. He had drank his potion some time ago, and he didn’t know how much longer he had until it wore off and he actually became inebriated. Luckily, his plan was working and Night Glider--who was especially intoxicated--had forgotten that the drinking contest had started with an exchange of insults and was now of the belief that he and Trixie were old friends. The plastered pegasus was wobbling about in his seat, complaining about something and Trixie was looking away, making some strange face and clearly annoyed about something.

“I… I-you and me, Rick, things weren’t like this when we were growing up. Well, you probably grew up in Canterlot or someplace or...But, I mean, it’d still apply, I guess. Anyway, yeah, nopony went around whining and moaning about ‘oh, this colt’s daddy smacked him once, give us some bits’. No way, Tr-Tri-Rick--No way, Rick. I can’t stand those little pantywaists, thinking they deserve to have… Just because they got, I got beat like an old rug when I was--And the participation trophies! They, they’re-... Rick?” Night Glider was blathering on the way he had been most of the night, being skillfully guided on course by Trixie’s suggestions, but stopped upon seeing the wizard’s impatience.

Trixie’s expression quickly returned to normal upon the call and he leapt at the chance to reciprocate, intentionally slurring his speech as he took a drink, “Yeah, I know what you mean… Kids today--and that stupid f-fair… More like a pity party than a fair, if you ask me. And besides, it’s just so they can get-”

Night Glider leaned forward, nearly falling out of his chair, and said, “Yeah! Yeah! It’s all just for a hoofout, and so those socialist unicorns sitting behind their desks in Canterlot can push their political agenda down our-”

“Yeah, I-Yeah, and like today, for example,” Trixie interjected before the pegasus could get started on another tirade. “I was walking down to the bowling alley and some little pegasus filly came up to me with some sob story, asking for money--said her dad’s punishments were abuse, and kept asking for money. Said she was poor because her father was a stupid factory worker.”

Night Glider’s expression was unsettling to Trixie, and he almost reconsidered this course of action. Unfortunately, he continued.

“Yeah, this fair’s bringing out the worst in everypony, Night Glider. Even little fillies--and it was just a filly, talking about abuse and asking for hoofouts. When I was a little fil- Colt, I mean, I didn’t even know the word abuse. And she, uh... Little… orange filly, I think. Doesn’t really matter, I guess. She just rode off on her scooter afterwards. Seems to me that if her father really were so awful, she wouldn’t have a scooter to go around on--but what do I know? Shame, anyhow. Ungrateful, is what she was… What do you think, Night Glider?” Trixie believed these overt and clumsy insinuations to be the height of subtlety and social finesse, but Night Glider was so out of it that Trixie’s plan seemed to work, as the pegasus stood up and excused himself with a hellish grimace before lockstepping out of the bar.

Beatrix Lulamoon, being neither empathetic on any level nor particularly introspective to even the smallest degree, stood up and silently congratulated himself for fulfilling his own dark prognostications on the fate of an innocent child. With an arrogant flourish and a self-satisfied grin, he danced out of the bar and into the cold street.

* * *

 

Trixie sauntered into Twilight’s bedroom, the mare herself nowhere to be seen. He dropped his travel bags and scepter by his side of the bed, he’d return everything to it’s place in his tower tomorrow; right now he was cold, hungry, distressed and his twisted legs hurt--he just wanted to sleep. Unfortunately, fate was not kind to the wizard, and neither was Twilight.

“I spoke to Cheerilee, Trixie. She hasn’t seen you all day,” Twilight appeared, leaning against the doorframe and speaking with a coolly aggravated tone. “And are you going to tell me why you cast knock and detect? Most importantly: are you going to tell me why you’re only now getting in at-” A small orb of light formed at Twilight’s horn and she looked over to the hanging clock. “Twenty minutes to midnight?” The princess stared expectantly at her discontent illusionist.

Trixie didn’t say a word--didn’t even look at her. With magic he slid the sheets and blanket down, slipping into the bed and closing his eyes. This display of insolence was not particularly conducive to the sleep he seemed to desire, as Twilight quickly developed an expression of displeasure. She stopped leaning against the door frame and took a step in, planting her hooves.

“Trixie. Get up.”

Annoyed eyes of rose cracked open, and Trixie gave an extremely audible sigh before sluggishly rising out of bed. He stood there, glaring at the frosty window, waiting.

“Come here,” ordered Twilight, levitating Trixie’s possessions over to her escritoire for later inspection.

Trixie marched over indignantly to the mare, never looking directly at her. There was a short pause, and he could feel Twilight’s eyes upon him--waiting for him to speak first. “What?” asked Trixie, sternly.

Twilight sighed, her anger morphing into disappointment. “Trixie… What-...? Trixie, look at me,” Trixie could detect sadness in her voice, and his own expression softened as he glanced up at Twilight, then back down. “Trixie, just tell me the truth,” sighed Twilight, rubbing the wizard’s wet mane.

Trixie, of course, thought up a lie. With his most sympathy-evoking voice, Trixie pleaded, “Well, I tried to talk to Cheerilee--but I got so nervous at the thought of seeing those schoolponies again after so long and… later, I was walking alone to the bowling alley and heard a group of ponies about to turn the corner and I was... afraid. So I looked around and saw an abandoned shed I could hide in, but the door was locked--so I had to cast knock. Then, after a few minutes I cast detect equinoid to see if they were waiting outside for me and-”

“Trixie, you cast detect equinoid _before_ you cast knock,” Twilight said with a little more sternly. “Look at me,” The alicorn rubbed her weary face then planted her hoof on the floor loudly. Trixie looked back up at her, exasperated, and locked his eyes with her’s. “I’m going to give you one more chance to tell me the truth; why did you cast those spells--why did you really go to town?” asked Twilight.

Trixie paused, never breaking eye contact and growing visibly perturbed. “The truth is that… I know it sounds stupid, but I thought Cheerilee might have been sabotaging the fair on purpose. So I waited until recess was out, and I cast those spells to break into the schoolhouse to see if she and the weather service were-”

“Trixie,” Twilight halted the ridiculous speech, glaring at the stallion. She paused, taking a deep breath and looking into his shifting eyes. Then her horn sparked, and the gold ring around Trixie’s horn glowed, sending him into a static rage. “Until you learn to be more truthful with me, you’ve lost your magic privileges-” Twilight dictated, hesitating once she saw Trixie’s face contort into a furious scowl.

“No! No! No!” Trixie screamed, stamping his hooves and stammering like a child throwing a tantrum. “Y-you can’t-! Y-you c-ca-!” wailed the thrashing stallion, shaking his head violently as tears welled up in his tired eyes. Twilight was unmoved by the display, taking another deep breath and looking back into the hall. Twilight opened the door to Trixie’s bedroom as the stallion himself screamed and howled and threw his fit.

“Trixie, go to your room until you calm down,” Twilight said calmly, stepping aside to clear the doorway. Trixie stood there for a second, blubbering and whining before he complied and stormed off to his quarters. They had both been through this before.

After she heard Trixie’s door slam, Twilight sighed. She wasn’t upset with her wizard’s childish behavior; she knew he couldn’t help it. She dragged herself over to the satchels waiting on her desk and started sifting through them, Trixie’s ambient wailing filling the room.  While he always had these meltdowns, they had become less common since Twilight set him on his special diet, so she was especially sad this had to happen tonight. More incomprehensible screaming and the occasional crash could be heard as Twilight took Trixie’s magic scepter and locked it away in an enchanted chest. She reminded herself that it wasn’t Trixie’s fault that he could only deal with stress this way.

The crying and screaming was bad enough, but Twilight still flinched when she heard the crashes and bangs erupting from her stallion’s embattled bedroom. He only did this once or twice when they were growing up (in front of Twilight, at least) and it never really shook her up; but once they started living together, and entered a romantic relationship, Twilight realized how often Trixie would have these episodes. At first she thought that they were just immature tantrums as a result to some injury to his famous ego, but when she learned of the true purpose behind these meltdowns it shattered her. After that, these rages shook Twilight to her core; it was as if Trixie was a different pony, but she knew that she had to stay calm through them, just as much for herself as for Trixie’s sake.

Twilight partially blamed herself, yelling at Trixie during breakfast probably set it all in motion. That, combined with having to see all those ponies in town is most likely what caused the episode. Taking away his magic was just the catalyst. Twilight rifled through the bags some more, finding a small blue bottle and putting it in a drawer for later examination. Besides the bottle, she didn’t recognize anything out of the ordinary in the wizard’s belongings.

As she finished returning Trixie’s belongings to their place in his satchel, Twilight noticed the pounding and bawling from the wizard’s room had died down, now replaced with soft sobbing. She sighed and took several more deep breaths, stretching out her wings and composing herself. She left her room and stepped up to Trixie’s door, wrapping her hoof around the door handle. Cracking the door open, she saw her special somepony sitting on the ground, his head in his hooves and ears pricked up as he abruptly stopped rocking. Twilight carefully stepped inside and sat down quietly next to Trixie.

She wrapped her wings and hooves around him, frowning as she felt how cold and sweaty he was, sitting there in the middle of the floor. Trixie was wheezing, little whines escaping his throat as his heart pounded. Twilight nuzzled him and, rubbing his matted mane, kissed him on the cheek. “Shh…” She held him a little closer, starting to slowly rock back and forth with him. Trixie’s pulse gradually returned to normal, and his sobbing gasps decreased in frequency. “It’s okay…” Twilight dried his eyes with one wing, nuzzling him as his breathing became less erratic.

“Trixie…” Twilight kissed her sobbing wizard. “We don’t have to talk about what you did in town,” She hugged him a little tighter. “But… you’re always talking about how ‘free’ you used to be--but when I try to give you more freedom, like use your magic,” Trixie seemed to be listening, but was still crying and looking off in the distance. “You go off and do things like this--and I know that you only do what you do because you think it’s right--but,” Twilight ran her hooves along Trixie’s mane. “I’m responsible for your actions, Trixie. Now do you understand why I had to take your magic away, for a while?” She craned her neck around to try and catch Trixie’s eyes.

“I-I understand…” stammered Trixie, teary eyed and now hugging Twilight back.

Twilight smiled. “I love you, Trixie.”

“I love you, too.”

Twilight began to stand, bringing Trixie up with her. “Let’s get you cleaned up, then we’ll go to bed.”

About a half hour later things had calmed down, but residual discomfort hung in the air of Twilight’s bedroom. The alicorn herself was laid back on some pillows, reading some thick historical fiction novel. Trixie never cared to read much fiction, preferring only existentialism when he did--but he was in no state to read any book, fiction or otherwise. He was sat up, wearing polka dot cotton pajamas and gently rocking himself, Twilight occasionally rubbing his back. It always took some time for Trixie to return to normal after one of his outbursts, but Twilight was just glad it was over.

The room was warmly lit by a single candle on Twilight’s bedside table, serenely flickering as the disquiet melted away. The hail had stopped pinging off the frosty windows, and the only sound to be heard was snow gently patting the roof. The wind would occasionally howl off in the distance, like the echoing twang of a sorrowful guitar. Twilight looked over to the wintry expanse beyond her windows, smiling as she magically closed the drapes over one, but leaving the window nearest to her and Trixie unobscured. She sat her book down on her table and slid up to her stallion, now rocking rhythmically with eyes closed as Twilight wrapped her hooves around him and nuzzled his neck.

“We’ve come a long way, Trixie,” Twilight  kissed him on the cheek then returned to nuzzling his neck, hugging him more tightly as his breaths became deeper. “Mhm...Feeling better? Wearing your favorite pajamas... Here, let me give you a massage,” Twilight moved her hooves up to Trixie’s shoulders, wrapping her wings around him as a substitute for the embrace. Hugs and holding seemed to help Trixie when he got like this, Twilight had noticed. Trixie seemed to relax at the deep rubbing, opening his eyes and looking down. “Talk to me, Trixie,” Twilight brushed Trixie’s curly white mane to one side and kissed his neck, the stallion himself only mumbling in response. “How was your day in town? Did you talk to any of your friends?” Twilight asked sweetly, knowing she was getting onto the topic that set Trixie off.

“No,” muttered Trixie, almost starting to rock until he felt Twilight’s wings around him. She could feel him get a little more tense at the mention of his actions in town. He was now looking up, furtively glancing around. Twilight stopped rubbing his shoulders and brought her hooves around his chest instead, bringing him into a soothing embrace.

“It’s okay”, reassured Twilight, resting her head on Trixie’s shoulder. “We don’t have to talk about it, _right now_ ,” Twilight felt Trixie’s breaths getting shallow as she looked over to her bedside table, wondering if she should continue. “In fact, I don’t think you should go to town anymore unless I’m with you.” Twilight pressed herself against Trixie, hunched over as his muscles contracted and eyes clenched shut. He brought his head down and his hooves over it.

“No! N-n-n-n-agh!” Trixie screamed, shaking his head wildly and managing to rock even with Twilight latched onto him. He thought he heard her say something, but he was in the throes of another fit. Trixie started tapping his hooves against the back of his head, therapeutically, and it only took a moment before they escalated into full blown strikes against his skull.

“Trixie!” Twilight’s hooves shot back up to his shoulders, clamping down on his arms and jerking backward so that they both fell back onto the bed. Trixie squirmed and shook, trying to throw Twilight off of him, but she had his arms restrained in a hard embrace and his head pinned down by her own. His breaths were quick and strained, and he yelped in distress as tears streamed down his contorted face. Twilight had to bite back her own tears, trying her best to comfort the jerking stallion with firm nuzzling and soothing shushes. “Trixie…” Twilight shut her eyes, feeling Trixie starting to hyperventilate. “ _Trixie_ …” The wizard’s thrashing lessened as his crying became more pained. “ _Trixie, breathe.”_


End file.
